Heart
by PassPtOfObsession
Summary: Episode Coda: Sam & Dean have to deal with the aftermath of Sam killing Madison.
1. A Life Stolen

**Summary**: Sam had just shot a human being, a human being he had fallen in love with...Now, Dean doesn't know how to help him.

My own ending of episode Heart

**WARNING**: Deals with homocide and if you haven't seen the episode, reading this will spoil it for you!

Reviews Welcome & More Coming Soon

* * *

Sam had shed no more tears as Dean and he disposed of the body. The younger Winchester's robotic stature and emotionless face did not change as the place was swiped of their finger prints, the gun positioned so it looked as if Madison had killed herself. The story would add up; Madison, having seen her co-worker dead in his office and having been stalked by a unknown stranger, had caused the woman to lose it and commit suicide. Only Dean and Sam would know the true story. 

Having finished up, Sam stole one last glance at Madison, Dean patiently waiting in the doorway. Truth be told, Dean still felt cold inside, like winter had made a permanent stand in his heart. His face was sympathetic as he watched his younger brother who he was suppose to protect from all of this say his goodbyes silently. He had failed, which made Dean visibly cringe. _What a good job I had done._ Sam had not only witnessed his planned-to-be wife die in that horrible fire, but now he had to shoot his new found love. Knowing Sam, the fact will haunt him just as much as Jessica had. Dean had not said anything, but he still wakes up to harsh breathes and gasps in the bed next to him. Something like that never leaves you, Dean still remembering the heat of the flame from the nursery as he carried Sam out of the house.

The older Winchester was forced out of his thoughts as Sam brushed past him, soundlessly leaving the only good thing in his life. Gazing over his shoulder briefly, Dean let out a breath, giving the room a once over before closing the door. "You were good for him…." He whispered, voice cracking slightly. Shaking his head at how events played out, the twenty-six year old followed his brother's tracks, finding him already in the car. The emotionless mask that plastered Sam's face made Dean's body stiffen. Straightening from his crouched position, he walked around the hood of the car and slid into the driver's seat. The leather and thrum of the engine was welcoming, breaking the tense silence that threatened to suffocate Dean.

Stealing quick looks at his brother as he drove, the older sibling tried to find the nearest hotel available. Sam had still not spoken, his eyes glazing over, becoming haunted. A shiver ran down Dean's spine, fear gripping him like a rope, forming a noose around his neck. The poor kid looked like he might break, his body going to shatter into millions of little pieces. Dean knew that Sam's heart had to be broken, bleeding beneath an illusion of calmness. The knowledge only increased his need to tuck him away, blocking the youth from all things harmful and painful. The job, the hunt, _everything_ was on hold. Nothing mattered, other than the weakened man beside him.

Seeing the Hotel Eight sign, the Impala curved into the driveway, parking between two other vehicles. Turning the key and putting up the emergency break, Dean glanced at Sam, informing him of his plan to grab a room. The younger brother did nothing; barely even alive it appeared. The rise and fall of his chest was the only thing that betrayed the mirage.

* * *

"We have a room available with two kings?" The receptionist asked in a high pitched tone. It made Dean flinch, forcing a smile at the pink-tailed girl. Pink gum flashed as she chewed loudly, a bubble forming every couple of seconds before popping. Secretary-like glasses enlarged her constantly blinking glacier-colored retinas, completing her not-so-fashionable appearance. 

"Sure, how much?" Dean replied, receiving a snort of disgust at his hurried tone.

"You plan to stay one night or two?" The high pitched voice squeaked, the red eyebrows furrowing in an annoyance on the receptionists face.

Rolling his eyes, Dean ran a hand through his hair. This chick was pressing his nerves, his eyes still on his brother's form in the car outside the glass window of the main office. "_One_ night, alright. How much for _one_ night?" Heat entered the words, teeth clenched and jaw tense in frustration. The same symptoms of on coming anger were presented in the girl's behavior. _At least the feelings mutual. _Dean thought to himself.

Crossing her arms, the pink-tailed secretary placed the room key on the counter a little harshly, almost glaring at the man in front of her. "Well for someone as polite and wonderfully kind as you-twenty-eight bucks." The fake smile captured her lips as she added an extra dollar to the normal price.

The trick went right over Dean's head, his mind somewhere else other than the geeky looking chick behind the counter. Looking over his shoulder, he dug out his wallet and mumbled to himself as he counted out two tens and eight ones. "Here." He said roughly, already having grabbed the key. Before the girl could reply to his attitude, the Winchester was already jogging over to the car.

* * *

Hotel Eight was definitely not the best shabby hotel the two brothers have been to out of all the numerous others that had sheltered them through Sam and Dean's lives. The expired wall paper was drawn on, nicked, ripped and washed out- the once nicely printed leaves hardly visible on the almost white background. A small television sat on a even smaller dresser with loose and missing handles facing the two kings. The beds at least seem to be holding, no springs poking out as Dean placed his bag on one. Moldy aromas filled the room, the twenty-six year old's nose wrinkling. "Nice place, huh." He said out loud to Sam, still hoping to get him to talk. When Dean heard nothing he turned, watching the younger youth walk towards the bathroom. "Hey!" 

The abrupt call got Sam's attention, causing him to rotate his head to the left, the other half of his face hidden from view.

"You okay man?" Dean inquired in a softer tone, taking a step towards his brother. The ghastly color of the younger sibling's skin made his eyes too dull.

Sam dipped his head, looking away and continuing his path. As he opened the door to the bathroom, he added, "I'm fine."

_Of course_, Dean didn't believe the over-used phrase for a second, a wrinkle forming on his forehead as his brows came together. No, his little brother was far from '**okay**'. At that moment, as the Winchester plopped down onto the edge of one of the beds, he looked up at the ceiling. "You know what, sometimes Dad, I just wished…I just wished-" Stopping suddenly, Dean let his head drop in his hand, squeezing his scalp out of frustration. _You had not brought us up like some damn soldiers._ The in-fragment sounded so cold to Dean in his head, knowing that his father had tried to protect them by giving the skills needed to shield themselves. In a crisis, a person should never base his instincts on his emotions. _Especially, when they are up against a Black Dog or Succubus._ One mistake could cost the boy's their lives. _But with shutting down our emotions Dad, you never let us learn how to deal with them. And now, Sammy's paying for it. _Lifting his gaze, Dean's eyes locked with the chipped wood of the bathroom door. Steam misted from the crack at the bottom, running water heard loud and clear. Needing to get some of his anxiety out, Dean whipped around and snatched his bag, digging through and pulling out a sawed off shot gun. The weapon gleamed, the Winchester's always taking good care of their tools.

_The sound of a gun shot made Dean flinch, a single tear falling from his eye…._

The memory was still vivid in his head, the echo of the gun shot filling his ears. It only took a couple of seconds for the youth to grab some gun-soap and a cloth. He yearned for a distraction, something to calm the pumping of his heart in his chest. Tense muscles and stiff joints slowly relaxed under the rub down of the weapon, everything else in the room becoming part of another world.

* * *

The man in the mirror was not the same man Sam felt inside. A reflection of a emotionless mask stared back at him, silently mocking him. Gripping the sink with white knuckles, he squeezed his eyes shut, willing the head ache to stop and the video to end. The sweet voice in his ear and invisible brush of lips on flesh were all too real. Shivers racked Sam's body, the steam and warmth of the water having been blocked from his heart by a wall. He had shot Madison despite his love; shouldn't the heavens cut him a break? No, because Winchester's aren't suppose to dwell on such an emotion, but instead, suck it up and move on - no, because Winchester's have to take all the hits and still stay intact - no, Winchester's are invincible. 


	2. Mother Hen

* * *

Dean had taken the liberty to go out and get a meal while Sam was in the shower, his stomach's rumbling having driven him to do so. The twenty-six year old had written a quick note, standing it up on the television. The guns had been cleaned within five minutes, the block between Dean's shoulder blades not as wide as before. Upon returning 'home' the Winchester had found Sam on the laptop, the computer screen lighting up his face. The illumination made Dean stop a moment, eyes stuck on Sam's features. God did Sam look tired and ill. Forcing himself to move, Dean placed the food on the table, sitting across from his brother. "Sorry I left without saying anything. I was hungry. I got something for you though, figuring that it is almost four now. Plus, having-uh-our little watch this morning, we didn't get to have lunch, nor a good breakfast." The need for Dean to explain his methods was something that was spurred out of nowhere, the act completely wasted when Sam did not even look up from his computer screen. 

"I'm not hungry, thanks." Sam informed quietly, a click of the mouse emitting as he went onto a link.  
Dropping the packaged food onto the keys, Dean braced himself on the table's top. "You are eating something Sam. You _need_ something in your system." Sitting back down, Dean opened up his MacDonald's cheese burger and took a bite. He ignored Sam's stare, closing the conversation. Silently, Dean let out a breath when the Sam began eating his own meal.

For the rest of the early dinner, there was no noise except for the sound of yelling in the next room over or occasional smack of an object hitting the floor of the room above. Glances were passed, mostly from Dean. When Sam got up and threw his hardly-eaten meal away, Dean closed his eyes in defeat, not even looking when Sam made a dumb excuse of needing some air and left. Inside, he fought the instinct to run after the boy and strangle Sam for not opening up. His brother's pain was his own, since the day he was put in Dean's arms by their dear old Dad. With a feral yell, Dean stood up and slammed his fist into the table, the object collapsing in itself. "Shit!" The laptop was still on the table, which Dean totally forgot about. Scrambling, he checked it over to make sure the hardware was fine. _Only if we could be machines, oh wait, the Winchester's are the closest God damn thing to it! _Dean grumbled silently. Placing the laptop down gently, Dean climbed into the bed and turned on the television, occasionally looking at the door as if expecting Sam to enter.

An hour had gone by, leaving an extremely anxious Dean pacing the hotel room like a caged up tiger. Lighting flashed, the television flickering briefly along with the dim overhead light. _Crappy motel room._ The howls outside the vibrating window announced an oncoming storm, the normal sun which had shown beautifully that morning just one phase of the nightmare that had taken hold of the Winchester's lives. Taking out his cell, Dean called Sam for the fifth time, finding the same voice of the answering machine blaring in his ear. Throwing the phone onto the bed, the twenty-six year old threw his hands in the air. "Come ON Sam! Pick up the phone!" Dean could barely contain his rage, situations playing in his head. The yellow-eyed demon could have got to him or hell, a mugger could have caught Sam unawares at the moment. Coming to a halt, Dean glared at the windows. He couldn't wait for Sam any longer. It was sit here and die of a panic attack or go out and fetch the perplexed or possibley injured, younger brother. Sam won the vote. "The things I do for you, Sammy." Muttering, Dean threw on a coat and grabbed the knob, yanking the door open. His eyes met Sam's in shock.

For moments, the two just stood, the thunder drowning out all other noise. Tearing his gaze from the younger Winchester's orbs, Dean assessed Sam's condition. The blue sweat jacket and slightly ripped jeans were soaked straight through, the color darker when wet. Rain had also caused Sam's hair to deflate, sticking to his forehead and neck. Water dripped from the youth's limp fingers at his sides.

"Where the fuck have you been?!" Dean just about yelled in Sam's face.

The youth's brows furrowed, pale face frowning. "I checked out the library to find some info on a case." He answered in an emotionless tone.

Dean almost flipped, brain trying to comprehend what his little brother had just said. He barely even noticed Sam slipping by him and shutting the bathroom door. It seemed to be his heaven of late. Unable to understand why on Earth the youth would be thinking about the hunt now, Dean just shook his head, closing his eyes tiredly. The boy needed to grieve, and not hold it back. How Dean was going to get Sam do to so was a feat inside itself. Closing the door, he walked over to the wooden door, listening for sobbing. His brows furrowed when he heard none. "Sam?" He shouted, titling his head down so he could hear better.

A beat went by before Sam replied, "Yea?"

"You okay in there?" Dean stuttered, clearing his throat. Here he was begging for a chick flick moment just to ease his brother's pain yet he had trouble just asking the simple question.

Another long beat passed. "I'm fine, Dean…Just go…."

Dean almost didn't catch the last couple of words, the water shielding them from him. Reluctantly, the Winchester pulled away, finding his own limbs becoming weak. He would wait until the guy got out of the shower before breaking the flood gates. With a breath, Dean sat on the edge of the bed farthest from the door.

* * *

Sam could feel his brother's concern even though he was in a different room, the mirror once again showing him a different man as he stared at it. With a small sigh, Sam closed his eyes a tear escaping, followed by three more before the youth hastily whipped them away. Accepting what he did would only make his heart crack even further. Though Sam could not hide behind his own mask, at least he could try to forget and move on. _Why is that so fuck'en hard! Dean can do it so can you! Dad would be unable to look at you if he saw you._ God he missed him too. 

Turning on the sink, the Winchester washed his face, enjoying the cool sensation on his burning lids. With a resounding breath, he composed himself, feeling his exhaustion waning with each beat in his head. The pulsing throb threatened to knock him off his feet. "Just go to bed." The voice sounded too young to Sam, portraying his true nature at the moment. Ignoring Dean, Sam exited the bathroom, now in a clean pair of boxers and a white tee-shirt. Seeing that his usual bed was taken, he chose the other, pulling back the covers. The pair of green eyes burned into his back, probably noticing Sam's unsteady legs as he climbed into bed.

"You have to talk." Dean called out in the silence.

Sam ignored him, keeping his back facing him as he shuffled slightly under the covers. Despite his best efforts, another drop rolled across his nose and down his other cheek. The tear's journey ended as it soaked into the sheets, forming a increasing circle. Closing his eyes, Sam kept silent.

Sighing, Dean walked over and eased himself onto the side of the bed, a hand reaching out slowly. Green eyes took in the somewhat shaky inhales and exhales of air that lifted the lump within the bed. With pure self-hatred, he pulled his hand back, running it over his face. Chick-flick moments were not Dean's cup of tea. "You will have to tell me sometime about your feelings dude, because if you don't, just like before, they'll turn you into a walking time bomb." Getting up, the Winchester went to his own bed and hunkered down, stripping to just a pair of boxer-shorts. With one last morbid glance at his 'sleeping' brother, he slipped under the covers and turned off the light. Though it was early in the night, he felt tired enough to sleep a month. Worry did that to the human mind and body, draining it of its essence.

* * *

Hours later, lighting still blazed outside the window sill, bathing the room in white for seconds. Soft whimpers came from the youngest youth, sweat beating from his brow and streaming downward like the sorrowful tears that Sam had shed already. The twenty three year old's cries became louder as time went on, building along with the thunderous crashes outside the room. Wind tore at the trees, bending them and mimicking the images assaulting Sam's mind. _

* * *

_

"_Why didn't you save me?" She accused in a voice that was eerie and echoed off the walls. Blood continued to rain down from her slit stomach._

"_Jess.." Sam breathed, eyes wet with unshed tears. _

"_Why couldn't you find a cure for me Sammy? Why couldn't you save me either?" _

_Sam tore his gaze from his first girlfriend, eyes glued to Madison. A bullet hole marred her beautiful face, blood leaking down her nose and into her slightly parted lips…_

* * *

It only took a short time for Dean to awake to the moans leaving his brother's mouth. Instinct drove him to the other bed as if he was twelve and Sam eight. When the youth was little, nightmares had plagued him and he often needed Dean to calm him afterwards. Dean found himself using the skills he had kept hidden behind his mask of bravery. Noting Sam's moving body, he carefully approached, grabbing his shoulder. At that precise moment, the Winchester jerked awake, ripping from Dean's grip. 

"Easy Sam, it's just me." He whispered, his hand settling once more on Sam's shoulder. He could feel the vibrations, the soft sobs the younger sibling was trying to keep hidden barely heard. They tore at Dean's soul, his hold tightening on Sam's shoulder. "A nightmare?" There was no reply, though the answer was obvious none the less. "Sam? Come on bud, look at me please." His tone was caring and gentle as he climbed in next to his brother. Dean braced one arm on the pillow, fingers cupping Sam's chin and turning his face towards him.

Tears flowed from the corner of each brown eye and onto Dean's hand, the youth's faced flushed with heat, nose running. Dark circles underneath collected drops in small puddles.

Brushing the tears away, Dean closing his eyes in pity. "God Sam."

At his exclamation, Sam began to weep harder from both shame and emotional pain.

Dean couldn't take it anymore. Who cares if he was a baby for being a little girly? Not him. Letting go of his brother's face, he snuck an arm underneath Sam's side, a hand going beneath his shoulder. With some effort, he lifted the Winchester into his embrace. Sam clung to him, elbows bent and hands balled into fist against his chest. His hot gasps of air were felt on Dean's neck, cheek pressed against Sam's moist one. "I got you Sammy."

For a half an hour, Sam sobbed, his head support by Dean's hand, his body laying between the older man's legs. Dean's cold palm pressed against his forehead, thumb rubbing up and down in a soothing motion that matched his coaxing voice. Body lax, Sam felt his burden easing with each sniffle. "I killed her…I killed her and I loved her…" He choked, digging his nose deeper into the crook of Dean's neck.

"I know bro, I know." Dean coincided, rocking the broken Winchester.

"Jessica died because of me…now Madison..." Swallowing, Sam shook his head violently. "Everyone dies!"  
"Whoa Sam." Cranking his neck backwards, Dean tried to look Sam in the eye, finding it a hard task as the boy burrowed further. "Jessica's death wasn't your fault and neither was Madison's. She didn't want to be a monster." Dean told him firmly, taking hold of Sam's cheek. With hesitance, the younger youth turned into the touch, locking his gaze on Dean. Dean knew Sam yearned for him to make it alright. "And I'm not going anywhere, understand?" Staring into Sam's eyes, he tried to find signs of comprehension and belief in his words.

Reluctantly, Sam bobbed his head, overlapping Dean's hand with his own and giving it a squeeze. The confirmation brought a smile to Dean's lips, causing Sam to softly grin as well.

"How about we get some shut eye? Huh? I'm dog tired." Some of the humor leaked into his questions, finding the cloud above him dissipating with the ease of Sam's weeping. Seeing anxiety starting to build up in Sam's eyes, Dean widened his smirk, easing his brother down on the bed. "Try not to hit me though, alright?" Pulling the covers over the Winchester, Dean winked before slipping under the sheets beside the now relaxed youth. As Sam turned over, the twenty-six year old snuggled up next to him, throwing an arm around Sam's waist and pulling his back alongside his chest.

Tension quickly left Sam's body, the comforting touch, blocking the nightmares that threatened to take over once more. "Sleep Sammy. I'll be right here." A voice breathed into his ear, Sam's eyes closing in command.

* * *

Morning sunshine blinded Dean through his lids, causing him to groan in resistance as he slowly awoke. A warm body pressed against him comfortingly. Smiling to himself, he opened his eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the bright rays of light that came through the window. "Damn cheap shades." He sighed, Sam stirring next to him. Flashing teeth, Dean sat up, tilting his head at his barely awake brother. "Don't want to wake up Sammy boy?" He teased, chuckling. The good feeling that ran through his veins promoted the mockery. 

"Morning already?" Sam retorted with a hoarse voice. Swinging his legs over the bed, he rubbed his eyes. Embarrassment caused his head to droop suddenly. "I'm sorry about yesterday…and this…" He apologized quietly, not meeting Dean's surprised look.

"Sorry? Sam, don't have to make an apology for it. You should have talked to me sooner. Then you would have avoided that whole situation last night." Stretching, Dean stood, walking towards the bathroom. "Why don't you make your butt useful and get us some breakfast while I get myself all handsome for the ladies?" His voice carried from the bathroom before the door shut.

Licking his lips, Sam laughed, running a hand through the mop of hair on his head. Maybe Dean would live, breaking the pattern that seemed to follow Sam. Walking to the window, Sam took in the scenery of the hotel parking lot and sparse trees in the planters. Soon…they would be in Hollywood, solves the mystery of a haunted set. Sam hadn't briefed Dean yet, but he knew he would be right along side him anyway.

After all, they were Winchesters and Winchesters always go in headstrong….

* * *


End file.
